A Weasel's Lament
by The Twisted Mind of Ozzie
Summary: Itachi Uchiha died of his own volition against his beloved brother. Greeting death with arms open, he had sought penance and paid for it with his life. Yet why were his eyes opening? And why were they green?
1. Chapter 1

This was it.

Itachi's death approached. And yet he hardly moved a muscle to prevent it. He was waiting for this moment for a long time. He only hoped that his mother and father were kind in the afterlife, and didn't begrudge what he was forced to do. Oh, who was he kidding. There wasn't going to be a reserved place for him in heaven. Especially with all the blood on his hands. He was destined for hell.

His sharp hearing tuned from a young age caught the impatient pitter patter of his brother's sandals hitting the ground. Sasuke was eager.

It took everything in his power not to rise from the throne in which he sat, as he glanced at his brother for the first time in three years. His Sharingan made sure to burn the image into his head forever.

He had grown! If he was anything like he remembered, then out there in the Elemental Nations must have been a horde of fangirls lusting after him. He smirked lost in times long past.

Sasuke caught the smirk and rage bloomed across his face in an instant. His eyes reflected his anger, three tomoe similar to Itachi's began to rotate.

"I've done everything you said that night Itachi!"

His name being spat out like it was venom caused Itachi to flinch unnoticeably. Sasuke had been a shy, reserved boy. And not a day went by when he didn't curse Danzo's name.

"I've trained, and hated you! I will avenge the Uchiha name, and you will die here!"

Itachi refrained from pleading with his brother to see reason and seek Konoha again. Sasuke was now beyond reason, this was evident from the maniacal gleam in his eyes. No... He wouldn't push Sasuke this way to go back to Konoha otherwise Danzo might prey on him.

He schooled his feelings back to aloofness. "I will die here, will I? Well then… go on, make it happen."

And the battle began in earnest.

Itachi watched with pride as lightning danced across Sasuke's palm.

Kakashi had taught his brother well, but what he could see from Sasuke's stance was he had another teacher. Orochimaru… That snake. He desired an Uchiha body, and because he was too weak to take his, he desired his brother's.

That would not happen on his watch. Even when battling Sasuke, he was looking after his best interests. Orochimaru would be sealed in the sword of totsuka and his disgusting curse mark would be removed from Sasuke's flesh.

The current of lightning missed him completely, Itachi knew it was a ruse, but he let Sasuke have a small victory. He deserved the phantom pain of Sasuke's chokuto piercing his skin.

"You have… gotten strong…" And he meant it. Sasuke was practically oozing chakra by the droves. His form was crisp, his swordsmanship was fantastic, and his Sharingan was potent. It nearly brought tears to his eyes, yet he refused for them to fall. It should have been their father teaching him, nurturing Sasuke and watching him grow, yet because of him and his actions, he had allowed a sannin hellbent on stealing his body to nearly succeed in doing so.

Sasuke's blade twisted in his stomach, he intended to draw out Itachi's suffering, unbeknownst to Sasuke, Itachi _was_ suffering. And had been for a long time. The mediocre pain he felt from the blade wouldn't be able to dull the lifetime of pain he felt when his kunai had led to the termination of their prestigious clan.

"No, no, no! You can't die yet! I want you to confess! Tell me WHY DID YOU DO IT!" Sasuke's spittle flew straight and true, peppering Itachi with his saliva as the chokuto twisted with deliberate malice.

Itachi reached with two fingers, index and middle joined together as he flicked Sasuke in reminiscence of how he used to.

Crows gathered around Itachi's prone body, before ejecting into murders of them.

"The exact same words as before and crows as well. Starting with your favourite Genjutsu farce, huh?"

"If you think this has a happy ending Sasuke, you haven't been paying attention." Itachi sat unruffled and aloof as always, his voice lacking both emotion and inflection.

"Let me try this again…" With a flicker of movement Sasuke was behind his throne like chair, and the serrated edges of the chokuto once more finding purchase in his chest.

"Genjutsu…" Itachi watched as white snakes grew out of the body in front of him, further highlighting the fact that Sasuke had _assimilated_ the very fabric of Orochimaru's being into his chakra network.

No that would not do at all.

 *****Break*****

It had boiled down to this.

Itachi could feel the pain mounting from his eyes. The strain from overusing the Mangekyō was going to lead to his death.

The fiery light of Susanoo surrounded him, embracing him in a way reminiscent to the way Mikoto used to hold him.

The legendary sword of Totsuka had done what he had deemed it to do. Sasuke was free from Orochimaru's corruptible taint. His Sharingan analysis showed Sasuke's chakra network was free flowing instead of restricted like before.

Taking small, decisive steps closer to his brother, he had one last gift to give Sasuke. His greatest ninjutsu. That fake Madara had been a thorn in his side for some time. He knew he would have contact with Sasuke after he'd perished. Well, he was one step ahead.

Susano flickered before erupting into red motes, fading into the air.

And at last he reached Sasuke. This time, he let the tears fall. His young brother was on the cusp of manhood, all sharp edges and shattered resolve.

His index finger and middle joined together for the last time, and he flicked him gently.

"There won't be a next time…"

And darkness took him, as he slumped and fell. Itachi Uchiha closing his eyes at last.

 *****Break*****

White light.

Blurry shapes.

Foreign names.

Smell of sterilisation, and the beeps of machines. So, hospital? No… Sasuke wouldn't send him to a hospital, he was sure that he had died.

The door opened, and entered a man with raven black hair, untidy beyond relief and wiry glasses situated on his nose. Behind him were the sounds of exuberant shouting as three men followed after the first.

Itachi was picked up with strong but gentle hands and positioned in between the four men. Eight set of eyes peering down at him.

"Gentlemen, I give you the next generation of marauders. Meet Harry James Potter!"

.

.

.

Hunger panged and his stomach rumbled, looking back at this moment, Itachi would have been mortified, yet unable to contain himself, he cried and cried, anything to abate his hunger.

"Well James, at least he has your lungs." Said the man with curly black hair, elbowing the man known as James.

Laughter echoed throughout the room as the men shook and cooed at him.

One thing was for certain, this didn't look like heaven nor hell.

AN:

Review, favourite, follow all that good stuff!

Any questions? Review them.

Chapter is short due to it being a prologue. It'll get longer.

Did I mention reviewing? Please review! With whipped cream and strawberries on top.


	2. Chapter 2

Samantha Chapman had caught a lucky break when her application to intern at Saint Mungo's had gone without hitch. The purity of her blood could have come into question, if the people in charge cared for such a thing. Only saving the lives of patients mattered here.

She was the newest addition to the maternity ward.

And the experience was nothing short of surreal. Women here had no need to fear death. For magical medicine ensured baby and mother survived. However, slight complications could arise that fractured families and split mothers and fathers from babies.

Samantha had only heard the term once. But the heartbreak lasted a lifetime.

 _Squib._

It was absurd in her opinion that parents would willingly discard their children just because they didn't have magic. Children should be cherished and loved. She didn't dare voice her opinions though, for magical Britain was practically embroiled in civil war.

Waving her wand in an arc, she summoned a clipboard to her person. On it was a moving picture of a small baby. Intelligent brimming in the eyes looked up at the camera, frowning, before repeating. On top of the yellow parchment, in block letters was the name 'Harry James Potter.' Beside it a hastily scrawled 'half blood.'

Frowning, Samantha realised that the child's blood samples hadn't been taken. And just when her shift would end! Sighing, she made her way through the convoluted wards of St Mungo's. Her lime-green robes billowing behind her.

She had just reached the neonatal ward when the soft thrums of a lullaby being played filled the air.

'Now the sun is sleeping

And the moon shines overhead

Come magic creatures creeping

Around your little bed

But be not afraid my child.'

She didn't hear the rest as it abruptly stopped.

The spell must have fizzled out. She could tell as soon as she entered the private room of Lady Potter. Childbirth was always taxing on Muggleborn mothers as they continuously refused to take any potions to accelerate the recuperation process, for that very reason Lily was asleep.

It was St Mungo's policy that the needs and relaxation of their patients was always adhered to. The rooms in which the patients resided had their own separate house-elf's keyed to mentally help in any way, shape or form. Ergo soft music that had recently stopped was to lull the new-born boy in the cot to sleep.

Samantha entered the threshold of the room fully, seeking out the boy first. She peered down into his cot, expecting him to be fast asleep. Only, his emerald eyes were firmly on hers.

He was a cute baby, all the babies born in St Mungo's were. Until they opened their mouths and the screeching ensued.

She cradled him in her arms, and yet peculiarly he remained quiet. Even when she let the clipboard fall from her hands, causing it to remain levitated in front of her.

Withdrawing her wand from the folds of her robes, she pointed it at the inquisitive baby, and made a stabbing motion. She expected him to cry as small droplets of blood escaped from the pin wound in his finger.

He didn't, and she loved him even more for it.

Placing the boy back into his cot, she tucked him in and made her way to the door, just before she left, Samantha pointed her wand at the rectangular device on the foot of the bed. Sending a tuning charm towards it, she left the room, the sounds of the lullaby playing in the background muffled her steps.

* * *

Itachi was baffled.

Such an emotion was unbridled and something he hadn't felt for a long time. Yet, as he gazed around for the umpteenth time, he couldn't help but feel it without restraint.

He just couldn't see.

For a member of the Uchiha clan and someone who had kept the Sharingan active for most of his lifespan, possessing mediocre vision was worrying.

Things which once he could see with vivid clarity were dulled to the mediocre eyesight of a child's. Any ninja worth their salt could defeat him in his current state, something that was unacceptable! As he lay in the crib that was gifted by his "parent's" many friends. He needed to find out what had become of Sasuke and the Elemental Nations. Judging from the lack of chakra being used and the sticks being carried around by nearly everyone he had seen, Itachi had a hunch that he was somewhere different entirely.

* * *

He hated when his hunches were proven accurate.

Itachi or _Harry_ as he was known to these people was cradled in between his mother's arms. Her vibrant red hair tied in a topknot and emerald eyes assessed him. She adjusted him in her right hand, before withdrawing a stick.

Itachi knew of the wonders of chakra, he had studied it exponentially, lost sleep burying himself under tomes dating all the way back to the Sage himself. But when his mother waved her stick and summoned small birds to fly overhead, he couldn't keep the look of child-like wonder from his face.

* * *

He was six months old when he began to walk. The Marauders from what Itachi had gleamed were ecstatic beyond reproach. His father telling them frequently that if he learned to walk this fast, his broom skills would be out of this world.

'Broom?'

Itachi would never find out the meaning to those words until six more months had passed, much to the consternation of his mother.

* * *

He was one year's old, his birthday party in full swing. The people in attendance had Potter Manor seem crowded.

Gifts upon gifts were piled on. He didn't realise the significance of a birthday. After all, life in the Ninja world was fleeting. Something as trivial as birthdays were of inconsequential thought.

Still, he played the role of dutiful son well. Happily keeping quiet but listening as the adults talked about different topics. The most concerning of all was the outcome of the war.

* * *

Two months had passed since his birthday. Yet the tension had increased even more. His mother and father showed signs of stress and fatigue. James had lost his boisterous personality, dark rings prominent underneath his hazel eyes. His untidy hair beginning to lose its shine. Lily on the other hand had thrown herself into obscure books, he had been left at home one day whilst her and James had gone to Gringotts. When they'd come back, they had done so with a library of books.

The cause for this change?

 _Albus Dumbledore._

He had summoned his parents and him to Hogwarts. It was referred to as a school.

But he knew what it really was. An Academy. Designed to churn out able bodied _witches and wizards._

He wasn't privy to much of the conversation. He cursed his childlike internal clock. Sleep came to him more frequently than it did in the Elemental Nations, and it was hard to rouse himself from the deep sleep. When he had eventually awoken, they were back at home. Packing as if their lives depended on it. And four months from now, he'd realise, that yes. Their lives had depended on it.

* * *

"Lily! Its him! Take Harry and run… I'll hold him off!"

Harry was scooped up and held so hard a whimper escaped his lips. But James didn't care. He couldn't. He practically threw him at Lily, and ushered them to the stairs.

His inattention would be his undoing, as high, cold laughter filled the air.

"Hold me off? Without your wand?"

Harry didn't get to hear any more of the monologue as Lily fastened him in her arms and ran up the stairs. Green light illuminating downstairs and the thud of a body made Harry aware of what was going to happen.

Him and the fake Madara had done something similar to the exterminated Uchiha.

The irony was not lost on him.

There was no escape. He knew this. And he had an inkling that his mother did too.

With a wave of her wand, she closed and locked the door. Another deft swish caused all the furniture in the room to pile by the door, except his cot. She gently placed him down and wiped the tears from his eyes.

"Harry. Mummy loves you. Daddy loves you. I want you to know, whatever happens we'll always be here. Watching over you." She gave him a watery smile, as if trying to keep her own tears at bay, before leaning forward and kissing him on his forehead.

The door and all the clutter behind it were completely vaporised as more mocking laughter filled the nursery room.

"Get out of the way."

Lily stood in front of him, shielding and arms outstretched. "Please… Not my son…"

"Stand aside you foolish girl!"

"Please… Take me… Not Harry… Please… Not him…"

The Dark Lord laughed. His wand pointed directly at the red head in his way. Severus would have to make do with another mudblood.

Green light escaped his yew wand, and Lily Potter fell as if she was a marionette whose string was cut.

And at last Harry saw the tall, snakelike man. He was reminded of Orochimaru. The serpentine features were quite prominent in both creatures. He refused to acknowledge Orochimaru and this thing as humans.

There were not many people Itachi was close to in this life. Except for his parents. James and Lily Potter. Parents who had been mercilessly cut down by the depraved creature in front of him.

His eyes began to itch. It was as if someone had taken hot pincers and plunged them into his eye sockets.

Voldemort pointed his bleached wand in front of him, aimed directly in between Harry's eyes. Hatred was something that came easily for Tom Riddle. As an emotion needed to fuel the killing curse, it was something he had in spades.

"Avada kedavra."

The pain in his eyes reached its crescendo. He couldn't help but think of his mother and father, slain because of the machinations of others.

Agony, misery but most importantly a curse had been unlocked.

Emerald green eyes made way for three spiralling curves converging around the pupil.

Voldemort had but a moment to widen his eyes before the killing curse was swallowed up by inextinguishable dark flames. As the curse eroded, the flames fell upon the Dark Lord, burning him into a crisp.

Blood cascaded down his cheeks, without any sign of respite. As his vision blurred and his head beginning to throb, Harry James Potter slumped in his cot.

The only sign of the Dark Lord's admittance was two dead Potter, one maimed Potter, and black flames drilling a hole in the very expensive carpet.

AN:

Thank you all for the reviews, favourites and follows. I appreciate it.

Now although it seems as if Harry has awoken the Mangekyō early, that activation and the usage of amaterasu will have severe effects for him later down the line. Also, He's not a horcrux and the Yew and Phoenix wand was burnt as well. Important information.

Any questions?

Review them!

As always, favourite, follow and review! Please! With whipped cream and strawberries on top.

Till next time, Uzunami669.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter Pettigrew knew things had fallen into disarray when he had handed over the secret to the fidelius charm over to the Dark Lord. Lily and James dead. Their son left motherless and fatherless. Yet in his heart of hearts, he knew if the Death Eaters came knocking again, he would renounce his friends again without remorse.

Making his way clandestinely throughout Godric's Hallow, he arrived at his intended destination. The last time he had been here, however the door hadn't been blown apart and the house had been unplottable.

Not desiring to make any more noise lest Dumbledore or Sirius find out about his treachery, he concentrated and were a portly man with a mullet had once stood was now a small rat. Squeezing into through the gaps in the fence, he was now at the edge of the Potter garden. Running through the garden, and passing the unhinged door, he saw the lifeless cadaver of James Potter, one of his best friend.

With a pop, the rat was replaced once more back into man, stifling a sob, Peter made his way up the stairs. With each step, the air progressively grew hotter. Pettigrew was practically drenched in sweat as he reached the landing to the nursery. The door was ajar.

He stepped through the threshold only for the tears in his eyes to turn into steam, clouding his vision, he stumbled into the room, screaming himself hoarse. Karma worked in mysterious ways, Peter ended up slipping on the Grim teddy dog that Sirius had gotten his godson. That wasn't the least of Pettigrew's concerns. For he landed in the same spot his master had fallen. The spot covered in hungry, enchanted, dark flames.

Luckily for him, it was at that moment a flash of fire blossomed into existence. The flame dissipated soon enough, only to reveal Albus Dumbledore with his phoenix perched on his maroon robes. Behind half-moon spectacles, the old wizard had already surveyed the room. With a deft swish and flick, he switched Peter's clothes for the only candidate given the room's burnt parameters. Lily Potter's lifeless body.

As the red-headed women burnt, Albus cast a vast array of healing charms on Pettigrew's charred corpse. Every inch of his skin was darkened and blistered. Pus oozing at irregular intervals, his mullet hairstyle completely burnt away.

With a gentle nudge from Dumbledore, Fawkes flew over and cried two tears into Pettigrew's empty eye sockets. Shivers began to rake his form as Peter awoke from the rejuvenating aspects of the phoenix tears, he started to scream and rip his flesh off. Bits of sinew and muscle began to peel off, yet the headmaster made no move to stop him from further damaging himself.

"What happened here?" The headmaster wandlessly used legilimency to gleam flashes of memories.

Lily and James sitting down with him and Sirius, words spoken.

The dark mark found outside his house, his mother gagged and blindfolded as burly, cloaked men entered. The skeletal masks they wore shone with malice.

Kneeling before the Dark Lord, being in awe of the power under his command. Desperately desiring to make himself that powerful as well. Divulging the secret and damning the Potters.

The headmaster dispelled the legilimency probe as he shook his head in disgust. With a wave of his wand, he banished Pettigrew back into the gaping maw of the dark flames, his screams echoing throughout the destroyed cottage before silencing abruptly.

Dumbledore channelled his magic through the Elder Wand and compressed the flames as best as he could. Even when using the Death stick, the flames refused to submit and be deprived of life. However, the headmaster wasn't a normal wizard. Using his wand, he drew a series of Norse and Celtic runes across the perimeter of the ravenous flames, slamming his wand down, the runes began to glow with a nimbus of green light, the flames began to shrivel and shrink as the suction on the runes increased in tempo.

His job done, he stowed his wand back into the folds of his robes, before making his way cautiously to the crib. Fawkes occasionally breaking out into song.

"Oh, that can't be right."

Dumbledore glanced down at the crib, what he saw was Harry James Potter bleeding freely from both eye sockets. His skin a deathly pallor.

"Fawkes! Take him to the hospital wing! Tell Poppy he needs emergency treatment! If it looks like he won't make it, give him some of your tears, my old friend!"

Phoenix and old man stared into each other for what seemed like an age before the bird dipped his head in acquisition, and using its talons to scoop the child up. With a flash of fire, they were gone. Leaving the headmaster to pick up the pieces to this broken family.

From his pocket, the headmaster withdrew a shiny orb with motes dancing inside of it. The reason why he wasn't here tonight with the Potters. Maybe if he had been, the Dark Lord wouldn't have dared to attack and this family might still be whole.

Like Ariana and Gellert, he was only human, mistakes were things he did frequently. And the past was something he couldn't let go of.

For in his hands was the first prophecy pertaining the boy he had just sent to the hospital ward. One he hadn't dared tell his parents.

Death can be a means to peace,

Freedom wrought by a silent beast,

Rather rubies of blood stain a single blade,

Than armies of god from existence fade,

A phantom presence moves with dire intent,

Never disrupts those he can circumvent,

And then, like a shadow, he strikes from on high,

A lissom mirage, whose eyes do not lie.

To dispatch a life, without pause or remorse,

Carving flesh from bone with impious force.

An ironic fate to sow love through fear,

To provoke our demons then disappear.

So agents of anarchy, know your time draws near

For you live by the grace of the Sharingan.

Some of the terminology eluded his understanding, he was a learnt man after all, but even he had his limits and the end phrase of the prophecy was something he had been attempting to decipher before word of the Potters being attacked had reached him.

He was also now finally certain that this prophecy was about the Potter heir. After all it had glowed in response to Voldemort's attack.

Was he troubled by the contents of the first prophecy? He could honestly say he was. He would not divulge it to the boy, lest he be succumbed to the lulls of feeling entitled and taking lives. Tom had done the same, and look at how he turned out. No, he would be extra cautious with Harry Potter.

* * *

"Poppy, how is he?"

The healer stood up to greet him, he could see the squareness of he shoulders, she was tired.

"He's stabilised Albus, his magic fluctuated but after Fawkes bestowed some of his tears it reoriented himself."

"And what of his eyes?"

"They're..."

"What Poppy? What are they!?"

"I'm afraid, whatever spell He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cast, has left Mr Potter blind..."

Albus staggered back as if physically struck. Blind... Lily and James Potter sired a whole and healthy boy and now fate had cruelly delivered him a bad hand.

"Poppy, are you certain?"

The matron nodded her head sadly. "I'm positive Headmaster."

"Very well." And with his dues said, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the healer's face and mentally intoned 'obliviate.'

His job done, the headmaster gently picked up the toddler, cradling him to his chest, he exerted his authority over Hogwarts wards, turned on the balls of his feet, and disapparated with a inaudible pop.

* * *

He reappeared to crisp November air. Surrey to be precise.

From his trouser pocket, one hand balancing Harry, the other reached deep inside, all the way to the elbow before withdrawing with a silver shaped lighter. An object of his very own design. With a click, light from the surrounding light posts were extinguished.

One of his tasks done, Dumbledore made his way to 4 Privet Drive, and carefully deposited the child by the doormat. With a wave of his wand, the headmaster cast a warming charm. Tucking his wand in his robes, he replaced it with a yellow parchment. Placing it on the boy's chest, Dumbledore disapparated with another inaudible pop. Just before he left, the stolen light from his device returned to the light posts.

The inhabitants of the house wouldn't realise they had an impromptu parcel until they awoke in the morning.

Dumbledore arrived at his office, sitting on his chair, with both hands on his head, he massaged his growing headache. Keeping Sirius from Harry would be detrimental if he lied. Discarding stratagems where he would refuse to share what he knew, Dumbledore opted to tell Lord Black the truth. If he could find him first. Giving a knowing look to his familiar, Fawkes vanished in a trail of fire.

Finally placing his head in his arms, Dumbledore closed his eyes. Now, it was a waiting game. Both for Fawkes to hopefully turn up with Sirius and Harry Potter to return to Hogwarts eleven years from now, whole and happy.

AN:

Not much of Itachi/Harry this chapter, he'll return- next chapter.

Dumbledore in this story is similar to the Doctor from Doctor Who. He can be a grandfather figure, but he can also be someone that does what needs to be done. He gave his second chance to Grindleward and Tom and they messed up. He won't proffer it to anyone else. Case in point to Pettigrew, once he found out he was a traitor he got the proverbial axe. Or should I say amaterasu. (;

Also, he won't be manipulative, he'll have reasons for why he does what he does.

As for Harry/Itachi being blind? Well, he could be. He might not be. Review and find out.

Any questions? Review them.

As always, review, favourite and follow! I appreciate them all.

Till next time Uzunami669.


	4. Chapter 4

The door to Privet Drive closed with a sickening finality.

Vernon Dursley was not happy. The product of his ire? The lion embroiled blanket wreathing in his meaty hands. His nephew had lost his parents a couple of hours ago, and instead of being asked to take care of an additional mouth to feed, he was dumped on their doorstep.

Worse yet, he didn't have the money to look after the child, he would have to give him to an orphanage. Maybe it was for the best? He would have to broach the subject to his wife first though. Steeling himself, he made his way through the hallway to the kitchen, where his wife would be sipping on her customary tea.

Petunia Dursley was a practical woman, she had mentally crunched the numbers in her head when her husband had shown her the letter penned by Lily's wretched headmaster.

The child was her nephew, Evans blood coursed through him, but he was _magical_ like Lily. Perfect and abnormal. Destined to brew potions and wave wands. He wouldn't have a place in normal society. He wouldn't have a place in the Dursley household.

Worse yet, they couldn't afford to take him in. Vernon only worked for a mediocre salary at a drilling company. Any money he did generate was lavished on their own son.

Her decision finalised, she made to speak, damning her nephew to life in an orphanage until he opened his eyes.

 _Her_ eyes. A brilliant shade of emerald, clouded with murky whiteness.

And she knew, maybe it was a mother's intuition, maybe it was the child's silence and lack of movement. She knew of her sister's husband, and his ability to create mischief. His son being nothing like him made her reach the staggering conclusion that he was blind. The whiteness in his eyes helped her to reach that verdict.

Maybe he did have a place in Surrey. In Privet Drive. With the Dursley's.

"Vernon dear, maybe we should keep him?

* * *

They thought him blind. And for their misconceptions, they made him suffer through hospital appointments and various amounts of screening and prodding.

He didn't correct their assumptions, he embraced them. The man that had killed his parents had followers, cult leaders always did. Let them think he was blind and weak. When he re-joined the magical society, they would underestimate him. And for that, they would pay.

But before that, he needed to be fed and fast. He cursed his childlike continence, the wails escaped his mouth before he could contain them, as his outburst continued, his aunt ran into the room, one hand precariously balancing his cousin and the other holding a bottle filled to the brim with milk. She pressed it to his mouth, which silenced him at once.

That night in the safety of her room, Petunia spoke in hushed whispers to her husband on what transpired earlier that day.

"He has magic Vernon! I felt the house shake when he started crying…"

"What do you want me to do Pet? His kind have heaved him on us, and we can't just dump him to an orphanage if word gets out of his magic, the olivtors would just return him back to us."

Obliviators, she mentally thought. Bless her husband. He tried to get his head around magic but she could see the toll it was having on him. He was forced to work overtime, without rest or respite. Trying to provide for them and make ends meet. And she herself had to dust off her old typing skills, to generate some income as well.

She looked at the toddler, cradled in her arms and fast asleep.

She wanted desperately to hate him with every fibre of her being, to cast him out into the dark, to mistreat him.

But she couldn't. Lily would never have done the same for Dudley. She would have treated him as her own. And it was something she would do the same for her nephew.

Thinking of Lily brought fresh, salty tears to her eyes, she let them cascade down her cheeks. A lifetime of not speaking to her, and bitter regrets that couldn't be rectified due to her beautiful red-headed sister being killed by the society that split the two sisters up.

Looking at Harry, she cried afresh. Dudley and Harry were close if not inseparable. Would joining the magical society engender feelings of resentment from her son? Turning them into the male versions of her and her sister?

No… She wouldn't let that happen. If the owl came swopping into her neighbourhood, she would send a sharp dismissal back.

Pressing a kiss to Harry's forehead, and placing him down in his cot, she wiped her tears. No, he would not be going to Hogwarts.

* * *

Harry walked along Wisteria Walk, living for five years with the Dursley's had done him some good, he was a healthy height and weight, if a little suffocated by his family's oppressive presence. Especially by his cousin and aunt.

Case in point, Dudley was walking alongside him, practically shepherding him to the corner shop at the end of the road. He'd been meaning to sneak out, unbeknownst to him that his cousin had just returned from his play date.

They made it to the shop in relative silence, he was perceptive enough to realise that his cousin was uncomfortable with him, his eyes did unnerve a lot of people after all. Still, he took it in stride, basking in the anonymity they provided.

A group of teenagers sat on the ramp leading to the shop, cigarette smoke wafting through their general direction.

"Bobby, look! It's that Potty boy!"

Bobby was a wastrel, he had flunked out of school at the age of sixteen, and his only desire was to get as drunk as possible to not remember the day before.

He was a bully too. Seeing the two boys without a guardian in sight, gave him a punching bag to ease his pain.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here. Fat whale and Potty the blind."

"Leave us be, Jerkins!" Came Dudley's brave reply, he was a large child, baby fat still remained on his face but his bones were big and an undercurrent of muscle resided underneath, still he knew his limits, these boys were twice their age and it was three v two. Well, three v one. It's not like his cousin could do anything.

"No, Dursley. I won't. You see, I've just finished by packet of cigarettes, and I've no money to buy new ones. Your cousin over here is going to distract the shopkeeper, and you're going to steal some for me. And if you don't…" He cracked his knuckles. "You'll be telling your aunt, you fell and scraped yourself, down the bottom of a hill. What do you say?"

Dudley gulped, but before he could answer, Harry did so for him. "I've thought about it, and I'm opposed to the concept," came his serious reply. "I don't think your fighting capacity will surpass mine. Only those of equal or near equal capacity should challenge another to a fight, everything else is a mere illusion or an excess of trying."

Bobby and his friends were reduced to staring at the blind boy. He hadn't ever heard someone his age, let alone someone younger then him speak about capacities and all that rubbish, naturally he came to the wrong conclusion. "Are you dissing me, you little shit!?"

Dudley tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "Harry, stop, please! Just apologise and get his cigarettes so we can go home."

Harry turned to look at him and as reassuringly as he could, patted him back, whispering to him conspiratorially, but loud enough so Bobby and his friends could hear, "Don't worry Dudley, they're just cowards, no need to feel afraid of them."

That was it! Bobby was used to his commands being followed, especially by those younger then him, never had he been put down like this by one of them. Anger surged through him as he threw himself at the blind boy, intending to show him a thing or two.

But somehow, he found himself pinned to the ground. There was no pain but he couldn't move either thanks to Harry immobilising him with an arm lock. "I told you Bobby. The difference between you and I is too large. Do not fight me until your capacity can match mine," said Harry quietly. Bobby flinched as he looked into the blind boy's eyes, wondering why they had suddenly become a bright red with a single tomoe.

A short while later, Dudley and Harry made their way back home, both boys licking ice-cream. One of them slurping without decorum, the other savouring the flavour.

"That was awesome Harry! How did you do that?"

Harry turned to look at his cousin, a small smirk blossoming across his face. Shisui had taught him that arm-lock, he had been a fount of knowledge, teaching him the ins and outs of how a true shinobi operated.

"It's something I picked up from a friend, if you want, I can teach you?"

Dudley didn't even register the mysterious friend, instead his ice-cream forgotten, he wrapped one sticky arm around Harry's neck and brought him in close, so they walked close to each other. "Thank you, Harry."

* * *

Harry stood crouched in the middle of a small clearing in Banstead Woods, sharpened pieces of wood clutched in both hands. He had shaped them himself from a knife he had pilfered from his aunt's kitchen.

They were crude representations of kunai's but it was the muscle memory they provided was the reason for him using them.

He sent a small trickle of chakra through the soles of his shoes, a breeze forming into existence causing the autumn leaves to fly overhead, and he jumped.

As he soared throughout the air, past memories distracted him,

 _Young, cute Sasuke following him like a shadow. All smiles as he jogged towards him._

 _"Can you train with me, brother?"_

 _He poked him in the forehead. "Maybe next time, Sasuke."_

There was a reason why he would refute his brother. He didn't want him embroiled in the same turmoil that had plagued him. He had looked up to him, desiring to become a prodigy like him, envious of the attention their father had heaped on him. Yet, he'd always hoped Sasuke would grow out of his emulating phase.

He twirled through the air, his hands a blur as he unleashed the sharp wooden kunai. They travelled through the air, only for two more to fly from his hands, these ones however travelled in a different trajectory.

They hit with an audible sound as they helped change the flight path of the existing ones he had thrown.

Ping, ping, ping.

He landed, crouched and sweaty. Not one of his better times, but he was improving.

Hoot, hoot!

An owl. How odd? They were nocturnal animals, and it was just shy of evening.

He held his arm out, as a small, owl landed on it. A letter tucked in its talons.

He unlatched it from its vice grip, as soon as he had done so, the owl flew away.

Watching it go, Harry turned the letter over and read the name at the front.

 _To Mr Potter,_

 _Small clearing, Banstead Woods_

Even odder…

He opened it, before crumpling the letter in his hands, three tomoe beginning to spin.

Finally! He didn't know how he got here, chakra didn't seem to be able to answer, but maybe magic could? He needed to return to Sasuke. If magic was a means to an end, then he would see it that way.

Soon brother, we'll be reunited…

AN:

Any questions? Review them.

As always, review, favourite and follow! I appreciate it all!

Please review! With strawberries and whipped cream on top!

Till next time.


	5. Chapter 5

"No!" The words were spoken without the intention of deliberate malice, but they had a finality to them, as if the subject to the conversation was over, and that was the end they'd be hearing of it in the Dursley household.

Petunia was beyond angry. How dare the Headmaster so blatantly involve himself in matters not befit his station.

The Hogwarts letter was scrunched up tight in her clenched fists, a similar letter was all it took for the insurmountable edge between Lily and her to grow beyond repair. Did she want the same thing to happen to her two boys?

No. It wasn't. She needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

Making her way to the cupboard under the stairs, she delicately removed the set of parchment and quills Lily had brought her, 'Just in case you change your mind about your freak of a sister.' She never had of course. One of her greatest regrets, but whilst the past was set in stone, that didn't mean she couldn't change the future.

She set the quill to the musty parchment, and wrote her grievances to Hogwarts's Headmaster.

 _My son Harry will not be attending your institution. Do not send any more letters to my house_ _as they're unappreciated._

 _Good day. Petunia nee Evans._

Seemingly satisfied with the contents of the letter, she opened the door leading to the garden, where she spied an owl perched on an acorn tree grown by her two sons, looking around the perimeter of her garden to make sure no noisy neighbours were watching her, Petunia brandished the letter around. The owl swopped down to take it.

Petunia closed the garden door, and watched from the kitchen window as the owl flew away, taking her letter with it.

'I failed you Lily. I _won't_ fail Harry!'

* * *

Dinner time.

Harry sat wedged between his cousin as his aunt piled food on his plate. 'You're not eating enough, young man!'

It was true. He didn't eat as much as he should've. Even though eleven years had passed, he still wasn't accustomed to the body he was in. Each time he drew the spoon closer to his lips, he thought he'd be wracked with pain from his terminal illness.

"Thank you, aunt, the food is exquisite." He made sure to look up and smile at her, his head facing the wrong direction deliberately.

Petunia subdued the pang of sadness she felt at Harry not being able to see her. "You're welcome son."

Dudley like his father had twice the amount of food in his plate, eating with gusto, he turned and prodded Harry on the side. "When are you going to introduce me to that girl you fancy?"

Petunia looked up sharply from her own plate consisting of Caesar salad.

"If you're referring to Amy, Dudley, I don't hold any attraction towards her. However, I overheard her speaking in confidence to Sophie that she's waiting on you to ask her out for some ice-cream." He even had the temerity to smirk as his cousin turned red, and his uncle let out a guffaw.

"It's the Dursley genes, son!" Spoke Vernon, food long forgotten as he ribbed Dudley.

Not being able to hold it in, Dudley loaded some peas onto his spoon, took aim and fired at Harry.

Had he not been bolstered by shinobi instincts; the peas would have struck him on the side of the head. It wasn't meant to be however, he twisted out of their flight path and evaded them completely. Unfortunately, uncle Vernon wasn't so lucky.

As her husband spluttered and admonished Dudley, Petunia couldn't help but look at the scene with fondness, the only people missing was Lily and her husband.

Her musings were interrupted as the doorbell rang.

"Now who could that be at this time?" Vernon grumbled, it wasn't often that the Dursley household got visitors. His sister Marge being the only exception.

Vernon rose to answer the door when Petunia spoke. "Finish your food, dear. I'll go."

She stood and made her way through the hallway, hand on the doorknob, she twisted and opened the door…

Only to come face to face with Albus Dumbledore in all his blinding glory. Magenta robes with spinning planets orbiting around the fabric, billowing around his form and a matching purple hat atop his brow.

"Good evening Petunia, we have much to discuss it seems. May I come in? August weather doesn't agree with my frail bones."

She made to slam the door, only for it to refuse to budge. Albus looked at her with a warm, grandfatherly smile, eyes twinkling as if in a mocking parody of a star before he took steps into her house, intruding upon it as if he owned it.

"I WANT YOU TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Petunia screamed.

As she shouted, her angry cries roused the rest of the household from the dinner table. First to greet Petunia was Vernon, then Dudley and last Harry, who was being shepherded by his cousin.

"I demand you leave at once, sir. You are breaking and entering!" Vernon surprisingly was being diplomatic but his face told another story. It cycled through different hues of colours.

Dumbledore looked at both Petunia and Vernon before his penetrating gaze fell upon Dudley, and then even with his considerable occlumency training his eyes widened behind the half-moon spectacles he was so fond of wearing.

Unseeing green eyes greeted him. The boy wasn't even acknowledging his presence. As he took a step closer, Dudley stepped protectively in front of him, fists balled.

Seeing the situation deteriorating faster than he could rectify the damage, he sighed and seemed to look his age.

"Petunia, please. Just hear what I have to say and I promise, I'll be out of your house before the night is out."

She looked ready to protest another outburst on her lips before a hand held her own. It was Harry. He merely nodded his head at her.

The fight seemed to deflate out of her system before she nodded curtly, she held onto Harry's hand and directed him to the living room. Dudley, Vernon and Dumbledore following after them.

Once everyone was properly situated on the couches, Dumbledore began to speak.

"Petunia, I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye before, but Harry coming to Hogwarts is of fundamental importance!"

"NO! I swore when we took him in that he wouldn't come into contact with _your_ world. You won't take him from us. From me…"

"I would never forcefully take young Harry, alas the Ministry of Magic certainly would and despite my many titles, I could do little to sway them. "

"Your lot has a government?" Said Vernon derisively.

Dumbledore nodded gravelly. "We do, and they will do their utmost best to take Harry if he doesn't attend Hogwarts on the 1st of September. Something which I can't allow due to certain sympathisers holding the Ministers ear and lining his pockets. They would take him from your home, and give him to a _purer_ Wizarding family."

"How may I help you, professor?" His voice lacked emotion or inflection, however Dumbledore's occlumency caught the iron tones in the boy's voice that had no reason to be present, and in that moment Albus could almost see shadows of the man this boy would become in his green eyes with flecks of murky white.

"It's not so much you helping me, but my capacity to help you and your family. The night your mother and father died, was the day the man who killed them vanished. However, he wasn't without followers and they will seek you out if you don't come to Hogwarts."

Petunia's hand clenched against his tightly, he turned his head to look at her.

"It was because of magic that I lost my sister and you your mother. I don't want to lose you too…"

"You heard the headmaster, auntie. It doesn't seem as if I have a choice. But," He held her hand softly, "I might be gone, but I'll always come back."

Petunia bent over and pressed a kiss atop his brow before standing straight and addressing the headmaster who seemed to look at the loving scene with emanating sadness.

"Was there anything else?"

"Yes, young Harry needs to purchase his school supplies, if it's alright with you Petunia, I could accompany him?"

"I'd like to go with my family Headmaster. Is that okay uncle Vernon?"

Vernon placed a meaty hand on his hair and ruffled it, making it even more unruly. "Of course, it is, son."

Dudley just punched him on the arm. "Real magic Harry! That's so cool!"

"Very well, here, take this," From his pocket, the headmaster withdrew a gold key and a freshly made ticket. "Platform nine and three quarters, to access the platform, you'll have to walk through the gap between these two numbers in king's Cross station. And, this here is your bank key. To get your school supplies you'll need to go to central London, Charing Cross road in fact. From there, you'll be able to see a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Speak to Tom, the barman, he'll grant you passage into Diagon Alley where you'll find everything you need. Use your key in the marble building."

He deposited the items in Petunia's hands before taking one last fleeting glance at Harry. Nodding to himself, he left the same way he entered. A crack was heard by the occupants inside before silence.

"Absolutely barmy that one!" Spoke Vernon.

* * *

"My apologies Albus, I appear to have misheard."

"You did no such thing, Sirius."

Sitting back in his chair, Albus Dumbledore stared into the grey eyes of his duelling professor.

Sirius Black couldn't believe what he'd just heard from the headmaster. The man had told him of Harry or as he was known to him as his godson. Harry was nothing like James or Lily. He was quiet, mature for his age, fiercely intelligent, and seemed to carry an air of melancholy that he could weave around is form with effortless skill.

As he sat in the uncomfortable armchair, Sirius couldn't help but wonder if the baby who tugged at his goatee or demanded he turned into pa'foo would make a return.

When he arrived at Hogwarts, he would try his hardest to make it happen.

* * *

AN:

Any questions? Review them.

What house will Harry/Itachi be in? Correct guesses get rewards.

As always, review, favourite and follow! I appreciate it all!

Please review! With strawberries and whipped cream on top!

Till next time.


	6. Chapter 6

They had once called him a genius. A shinobi of unparalleled skill, a traitorous ninja. His very name synonymous with slaughter and invoking feelings of anger. What they had failed to realise was above all those factors, he had been a child.

He might have had the mental thought process of a hokage at a very young age, but having that tiring mind set and _using_ the knowledge it provided were two very different things.

Watching the prominent effect his name had on the occupants of the Leaky Cauldron raised the hairs on his arms.

People rose, chairs scraped and toasts were exchanged. The vanquisher of Voldemort had finally come to the wizarding world, and their bated breaths and eager expressions frightened him.

He had come to the realisation that this was the outcome the Headmaster had wanted. His phrasing of the word 'vanish' and not 'dead' meant that this Dark Lord would be back. The Dark Lord who had deprived him of a mother and father.

Looking at his aunt who was trying her hardest to keep the baying crowd from molesting him, he didn't regret being raised by her. She had treated him as if he was her own.

Thinking of the Dark Lord and his foreseen resurrection, he knew his family would be in trouble. The best way to get to someone was through their loved ones. You didn't need to be a ninja to come to that conclusion.

He sighed inaudibly. It always fell to him to rectify the mistakes of others. He would have to step into the sandals of clan killer Uchiha Itachi once more. And end the threats to his family before they arose.

Sasuke unfortunately would have to wait.

Red eyes spun with a hidden clarity belying the turmoil residing within before reverting to green. Nobody none the wiser.

Nobody except a pale young man, sitting by the counter. Hands shaking as he took a sip of his firewhisky shot. 'So, that's Potter.' His eyes didn't leave the boy saviour till he was out of sight.

Harry and company reached the portal to Diagon Ally without any more trouble.

It was when the family walked closer to Gringotts did trouble occur.

Dudley having never been to Diagon Alley gave the appropriate response to seeing the bank, in all its white, shining glory. His hand gripped on Harry's wrist tighter, as he explained what he was seeing.

Dudley quietened down when he saw just beyond the scope of the burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was-

"Dudley dear, you're staring and they don't like it." Admonished Petunia, as if she spoke from experience.

Harry had never heard such disparaging words escape his aunt's lips. His sharingan activated in response, the tomoe spinning with impertinence. They catalogued the world in a matter of milliseconds. From the goblins description to the words engraved intimately onto the doors.

His aunt was on edge, that was evident. Her squared shoulders, tightening of the eyes, and pursed lips.

His eyes turned a murky green as he let the Sharingan deactivate. They entered the vast marble hall, where they were led to a counter by a pair of bowing goblins.

"My nephew's vault key." Petunia said in icy tones as she handed the tiny, golden key over to the diminutive being, taking care that her hand didn't touch it.

She might have been tolerant of her adopted son's magic but that didn't mean she was able to let all of her discriminations go. Especially with how the goblins had treated her the first time she'd entered this bank with her parents and sister.

The goblin turned the key over in its palm, before thrusting it back into her arms. A look of extreme contempt briefly washing over its face.

"Griphook, take the wizard and his family to his vault."

And so, they followed the diminutive being across the tunnels of Gringotts, Dudley leading him and explaining their surroundings as best he could, aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon trudged behind them, deep in conversation, as if unhappy about something.

He had expected to see more marble, but as their goblin guide held the door open for them, Dudley gave him a sharp tug, as the surroundings changed to narrow stone pathways, lit with emerald braziers. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them.

It seemed small but once all of them were situated inside, it seemed to accommodate their sizes, thankfully this meant Dudley and Vernon were sitting comfortably. They had just sat down, before the cart lurched into speed.

The cart didn't seem to follow the rules of motion as it twisted, up, down, left, right. He heard his cousin beside him let out a girly scream as the very air became hot, his whispered 'dragon' went unheard by his parents.

Just as fast the cart had moved, it came to a sudden stop.

Griphook doesn't wait for their recuperation, his small legs hobbling away from the cart, they dutifully followed after him till he reached a small door in the crevice of a passageway.

"Key." He looked back at Petunia, hand outstretched.

Fishing it out of her handbag, Petunia handed it over. Griphook wasting no time in unlocking the door.

He didn't expect this. From his aunt's exhalation, neither did she.

The vault was barren. Not an iota of currency could be seen within.

Griphook's grin was telling alone.

"What have you vile creatures done with the gold!?"

"Do you really think the boy's parents would give him unfettered access to the Potter family coffers? I think not." Griphook gave a gnarly laugh as if expecting such stupidity.

"Where is my nephew's gold then?"

"In Sirius Blacks vault." The laughter increased in volume, sharp teeth bared for the Dursley's and Harry to see.

Petunia sucked a harsh breath as if she'd been struck, she stared at her nephew in alarm before glaring at the goblin.

"Why does _he_ have the gold?"

"James Potter provided a power of attorney letter, giving Black influence over all financial and legal matters. As the boys godfather the letter is magically binding. Unfortunately, as he's no longer apart of the Black family, the vaults are held in stasis."

"What does that mean for my nephew's gold?"

"It means he's penniless." Griphook had the temerity to laugh anew. Deep chuckles reverberating around the cavern.

The laughter echoed in his head, all through the cart ride back to surface level and even when faced with another goblin teller.

"Fifty pounds for a single gold coin? That's utterly absurd!" Uncle Vernon was incensed, face cycling through different hues of colours and hands balled into fists.

His anger was ignored, for goblins were above such trivial outbursts of fury, no matter how justified. Just as it would have gotten physical, Petunia withdrew crisp fifty pound notes from her handbag and handed them over to the greedy banker.

A small, weathered money pouch was thrown without a care. "Next!"

They left the bank with as much dignity that they could muster. Harry's thoughts churning at the slight. He was never one to just forgive and forget.

The gold galleons that they had were limited, and with how much a wand would cost, Petunia insisted they buy everything else second hand.

The three set of plain black work robes that were purchased were tattered and littered with holes, even with assurances from the sales witch that a 'good ol' repairing charm would make it as right as rain' failed to convince them.

The course books were gloriously outdated. Pages ripped out and some even had stains on the side. Dudley wrinkling his nose and saying it smelled like pee, certainly did nothing but aggregate Uncle Vernon and upset Aunt Petunia.

The cauldron they ended up purchasing was cracked, and much to Aunt Petunia's consternation they couldn't afford to buy the crystal phials, telescope set nor brass scales. The intelligent looking owl that Harry had been looking at was brought by an over ecstatic bushy haired girl.

The last shop they entered was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. When asked why they couldn't just buy him a second-hand wand, Petunia had cryptically stated 'the wand chooses the wizard."

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, a silence emanating from every orifice. He could feel the blanket of secret magic prickling the back of his neck, in response he activated the sharingan.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.

Dudley jumped, Uncle Vernon swore and Aunt Petunia was unperturbed as if expecting something of the sort to happen.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

He turned to look at his general direction, illusion already coiled around his eyes to keep the bloodline lurking within from being discovered. "Hello, Mr Ollivander I presume?"

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You had your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. The sharingan catalogued everything, but even he could admit those unblinking silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. As his finger reached his skin, the illusion restraining his sharingan snapped, leaving it bare for the man to see.

"Ah, so you've awakened it."

The world dissolved around Ollivander and Harry both, being washing away as if a dissatisfied painter had cleansed the world around them. A murder of crows coalesced around Ollivander restraining him thoroughly.

"Talk."

"The eyes of misery would always be reborn if the need was great. I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that brought misery upon you," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

"Who else knows of my eyes?"

"There are telling signs for those who know where to look Mr Potter."

"Have they been reborn before?" Finding out the answer to this question was imperative if he was to see Sasuke again. Another Uchiha with the eternal mangekyō sharingan to guard the leaf village also wouldn't hurt.

"I'm not viable to answer Mr Potter." And much to his shock his illusion snapped. The world reoriented itself, and their feet were back on solid ground.

In Ollivanders hands was a sleek wand, its colour seemed to absorb all light shined upon it. "Here, a most unusual combination holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. It felt clunky and out of place. He was used to relying on nothing but himself, a crutch like this would be hazardous for his ninja training. 'Another thing to work on,' he thought.

The wand was taken from him and placed back into its packaging. Ollivander murmuring "Curious." Was as subtle as he was blind.

"What's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

It was ironic, if people were wands then he would be Yew and Sasuke would've been Holly. He nodded in response to Ollivander's words.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."

He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. The wince Uncle Vernon made as the money exchanged hands didn't remain unnoticed.

His mind churned with thoughts. Each interaction he had so far with the magical world cemented the fact that this so called Dark Lord would make a return.

Great things? These people didn't know half of what he had done as a ninja. The time would soon come when he'd educate them.

AN:

Next chapter will have the train ride to Hogwarts, and the well anticipated sorting.

Some of you have been PMing me about the pairings, now, Itachi doesn't seem like the type of person to get with anyone from the HP world. This however is something I'll leave up to interpretation.

Any questions? Review them,

Please review, favourite and follow! I appreciate them all.

Please review! With strawberries and whipped cream on top.

Till next time.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry's last month at home was nothing short of suffocating. Dudley would not leave him alone, constantly pestering him to train him in a mocking parody of Sasuke. While Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never leave him out of their sight. It was as if they expected to never see him again.

He had spent the duration of his time either in his clearing polishing his shinobi skills or in his room. The books that his family had brought him were spelled with audio charms designed to read text aloud to him. To keep the pretence that he was blind, the voices generated by the second-hand books played regularly in the Dursley household.

Throughout the month he had sporadically deemed it necessary for night time incursions to the library. A ninja's bread and butter was their ability to gather information. So, he had focused predominantly on history and technological advancement. When the day came where he would return to Sasuke he would need all the advantage this dimension provided to contest those who would mean harm to his brother and Konoha.

His mind churned endlessly, his eyes saw with fervour. He had inhabited this body for eleven years, fundamentally the elemental nations and this dimension were the same, yet the actions of humans here were more severe and dangerous than the mentality of ninja's.

 _'Was this the potential for civilians if there wasn't any ninja or chakra?'_

He closed the book with sickening finality. The red and black of his eyes depleting back to a sheen of green eerily reminiscent to his birth mother. He needed to rest his bleary mind. Tomorrow was his first day of magic school. Getting up with nary a sound, he glided out of the empty library.

The title and contents of that book would be seared quite intimately into his memory.

 _Adages of World War II!_

 *****Break*****

Aunt Petunia had woken up especially early for his send off. 9 AM to be exact. Breakfast was a subdued affair, even the exuberant Dudley was silent and solemn. This continued till they eventually reached Kings Cross Station.

"Guess this is good bye." Harry said softly.

Uncle Vernon ruffled his hair with his meaty hand, "we are just an owl away son."

Dudley gave him a tight hug as if not trusting his voice not to crack. Harry merely hugged him back, taking care to whisper in his ear without his parents being none the wiser.

"Keep training Dud. I'll be back for Christmas break and we can spar then."

Dudley tightened his grip in response to his words before nodding and slacking his grip on the "blind" boy.

Aunt Petunia was the last to look at him, taking a silk handkerchief from her hand bag, she dabbed away at the tears pooling by her eyes, she crouched to Harry's eye level and gave him a gentle hug. "Your mother would be so proud of you, just like I am of you." She let him go but not before pressing her lips atop his brow.

The mangekyo could only be activated when intense feelings of loss were felt. As he gazed at his family, he knew he wouldn't activate it again unless anything happened to the three people before him. He turned away and entered the portal in between platform nine and ten. One thought reverberating in his head.

 _'I hope I never awaken it.'_

 *****Break*****

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every colour wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat.

Everywhere he looked the carriages seemed to contain residents already, when Harry would knock, he would either be ignored or met with a firm rebuttal of "go away,"

Nearly giving up search of finding a seat, a compartment door swung open to reveal a frizzy haired girl, already dressed in Hogwarts robes, where the house insignia should have been on the pristine, black robes was blank signifying she was a first year like him. His eyes catalogued this in a fraction of a moment.

"Need a seat?" She gave him a hesitant look as if expecting rejection. Relief flooded her face when he gave a sharp nod and after her lead entered the compartment, sitting on the adjacent seat.

"Your owl is quite beautiful."

His voice broke the silence, she looked up from her book and gave him a shy smile taking care not to show her teeth. "Thank you, her name is Hedwig! I read about it in A History of Magic!" She said this very fast as if she was used to being interrupted.

"I thought the name was familiar,"

Silence began anew, Harry noticed the girl looking at him, she seemed to want to say something, before closing her mouth, this continued for a while until he decided to put a stop to it.

"I'm blind."

He expected pity, most people that saw his disability would exude a parody of compassion and mock sadness at his plight, the girl in front of him shattered his misconceptions.

Browsing through her trunk beside her she extracted a thin looking book. "Sensory deprivation- a guide to magic. I found it in the used and discarded pile at Flourish and Blots! It was written by a blind witch Casandra Wilcock," she placed the book in his hand, "as a guide for future generations of magic users that have disabilities."

"My thanks, miss?"

"Hermione! Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Harry Potter." His eyes catalogued her reaction, unlike every other person he'd met in the wizarding world, Hermione Granger did not break out into a gasp or mention the man who'd murdered his mother or father, instead she merely gave him another smile, like before she made sure her teeth were hidden and said,

"Nice to meet you Harry."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, both engrossed in their respective books, Harry flicking through the thin book that Hermione had given him, audio charms playing which helped him understand the test, whilst Hermione read 'Hogwarts A History' the fields and lanes flicked past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry who had eaten more of a banquet than breakfast thanks to Aunt Petunia merely shook his head. "No thanks."

Hermione also shook her head, before opening her trunk to reveal a container with homemade sandwiches.

The compartment door shut and they were left to their devices once more.

"Hermione, why do you have a book about sensory deprivation?"

Just as she was going to answer, the compartment door opened once more.

Three boys entered, two were hulking brutes, more fat than brain or muscle, the one in the middle was slightly shorter, pale with slicked back bleached blonde hair.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So, it's you, is it?"

He stared at them, sharingan primed and ready for any sign of physical altercation, he didn't need it active, but a good ninja always took precautions.

"Yes." He wasn't looking at the boy though, his gaze was fixed on the lumbering brutes beside the talker.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Potter, Harry." But you already knew that, didn't you?" The corners of his mouth upturned as he gave a smirk.

Draco glanced at Hermione before looking at Harry, a sneer already forming. "You'll soon find out some people are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Hermione bristled, but kept quiet, stewing in her anger in silence.

Harry stood, his hand outstretched to firmly grasp Draco's. "Thank you, however I'm capable of differentiating between wrong and right on my own."

Malfoy's response was caught in his throat as he saw a flash of something pass through Potter's eyes, primal and frightening. Nodding with as much dignity he could salvage, he clicked his fingers at Crabbe and Goyle and left the compartment with them.

Harry retook his seat looking at Hermione expectedly, "you've met him before." It wasn't a question, but a statement. His sharingan had already analysed her behaviour when the trio of boys had entered.

And she told him of her meeting with Malfoy in Madam Malkins, and the subsequent words of bigotry.

"And that's when he called me a _mudblood!_ I looked it up Harry… It's a very bad word used to express dirty blood." Her mask cracked and she began to cry.

"Hermione, don't let the words of others put you down, the dirtiness of your blood is of trivial importance, as long as you acknowledge yourself as the best witch you can possibly be, you won't fail."

She hiccupped. Giving Harry a watery smile, "thank you."

He gave her a smile back, "you're welcome Hermione, now if you excuse me I have to change."

 *****Break*****

"First-years! First-years this way!"

Hermione led him down the steps of the train, the duo walked side by side, behind and in front of them were a crowd of similar pint sized looking first years, they were marshalled to the boats, leading them and briefly greeted, by Hagrid. One of the tallest men Harry had ever seen, both in this life and the previous one.

Their party was soon joined by a red-haired and a blonde-haired girl. They introduced themselves as Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot respectively. Making all the appropriate noises when he introduced himself as Harry Potter.

The squadron of ships moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

 _Shock and surprise!_ Where the rest of the children were in awe of the looming castle, he was preoccupied with more pressing matters. Magic was distributed evenly across the entirety of the grounds, coalescing into a singularity around the castle itself.

 _'I can't use my sharingan…'_ He would be able to activate it, but actually _using_ it would be difficult. The residual magic permeating around the castle would render some of his powers to become moot.

So, preoccupied with his assessment, he missed the boats docking. The children assembled in the corridor outside the great hall, waiting for the deputy head to make her debut again.

Now that he was in the castle his sharingan sprang to life, the tomoe spinning with disparity, each brick was embedded with magic, it was as if the very castle was _sentient._

They were ushered into the great hall, beside him he heard Hermione mention the ceiling being enchanted to look like the night sky. An old and tattered hat sang a song, slow and steady much to the consternation of the children already sitting on the long tables.

One by one students were called up, the hat would be placed on their heads, and they would be sorted. Some would be done with very quick, others would have the hat on their heads for a longer duration.

Neville Longbottom was done with very quick, he was sent on his way to Hufflepuff. In comparison Hermione Granger sat on the stool for a long while before the hat had bellowed Ravenclaw.

Slowly but steadily the line of first years waned until his name was called.

"Potter, Harry!"

As soon as his name escaped her lips, the mutterings broke out, children of all ages stood to get a better look at him.

"What's wrong with his eyes!"

"What's he wearing?"

He paid them no heed. Allowing the deputy head to guide him to the stool, he watched as the dirty hat was draped over his head.

' _Well, well, well what do we hav- What!?'_

'You can read my thoughts.'

 _'This is most peculiar Mr Uchiha Potter. Most peculiar indeed. I haven't sorted a transmigrate in a thousand years! Do you have any idea the amount of headache I will get for this!? Do you!'_

'You can read my thoughts. This won't get out to anyone, will it?'

 _'I am contractually obliged to reveal my wearers secrets only with their explicit permission. Your secrets are safe with me Itachi.'_

'Please. Call me Harry. You mentioned transmigration, who was it that was sent here? And if anyone can, is there a way I can get back home?'

' _I am sorry to tell you this Harry… But your home is gone.'_

'Gone!? What do you mean gone!? How can the Elemental Nations just disappear!?'

It should have been impossible for a brim of a dirty hat to convey such emotion but he mentally felt it. ' _The day will come when you realise how. I hope you understand why…'_

No, no, no! This was impossible! He would not believe it, not unless he had proof! Sasuke gone? His eyes reflected his turmoil, they activated and deactivated, the strain was pulling at his heart. He was here to reach home… It couldn't have been gone, the land he had given his life for, the people he had sacrificed his clan for…

' _Harry! Control yourself!'_

His head felt as if it was on fire, he had subconsciously been heating the hat with _Amaterasu._

With great difficulty, he reaffirmed his mental clarity. Emotional instability was a weakness, unless he knew for certain that his home was lost, he was not going to give up his search.

 _'You possess all the qualities that Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff treasured in a student. Knowledge, ambition, cunning, loyalty, chivalry. You are one of a kind Harry Itachi James Uchiha Potter.'_

He narrowed his eyes, 'What happened to my home?'

The hat was quiet for a while longer. Before its brim opened all the entire great hall heard its cry.

"SLYTHERIN!"

AN:

Review, favourite, follow, all that good stuff.

Any questions? I'm sure you have several! Review them.

Please review! With strawberries and whipped cream on top.

Till next time.


	8. Chapter 8

A strange feeling came over Albus Dumbledore. He'd felt it come over him at odd moments before, never consistent but always the same feeling. It was as if knowledge hung just beyond his mind, memories partially Oblivated by a rushed expert that had more important things on his mind.

Now, as then, he moved to intercept. The source always came from the same location as before: the Hogwarts Library. Its ancient corridors, old as Hogwarts itself, were familiar to him. In his youth over a century before, Albus had spent many delightful hours delving into its mysteries. After seven years of academic digging, his interests turned more esoteric than ever, finding information everywhere his eye had turned.

A half-smile crossed his face at the memories. The Ritual of Knowledge, an old Druidic Rite had been tucked between a book of expired coupons and a journal that had smelled faintly of bananas. Entire aisles constructed of books stacked upon each other, had been left to ruin, known only to the occasional House Elf and whatever magic's kept the shelves free of dust. No one librarian, even with magic, could personally inspect every stack, checking each book. Especially when the older families had willed their own libraries to Hogwarts, including the defensive spells designed to protect them from any number of threats.

Albus frowned slightly. He still was never quite able to understand why the now-extinct Halcyon line bore such hatred for the color red. A visiting colleague in crimson robes had ventured there, seeking the weather magic's for which the family had gained renowned, and barely escaped with her life.

For that matter, the strange bursts of green and blue energy had refused to be analyzed. A charming puzzle for when he had more time.

A faint sound spurred him onward. Madame Pince was talking.

"Of course, you are always welcome here. Thank you for the loan, you wouldn't _believe_ the things children do to books."

A faint noise answered, too low for Albus to hear. All that was recognizable was the phrase _Ook ook._

"Well, perhaps. Do you actually allow that sort in your library?"

The sound of pity in the formidable librarian's voice almost stopped Albus Dumbledore in his tracks. Madame Pince held a reputation for being one of the strictest members of faculty in history. Her absence during the entire Abraxian Controversy less than a decade had been the result of her tracking down and – by all accounts, vivisecting – a specialist thief, that had dared steal from _her_ library. Of course, the whole thing had been hushed up, no one wanted to admit hiring the thief after such a punishment, and the Turkish government had been very unwilling to explain just _why_ there had been so many Chimera on their southern borders.

In equally distressing turn of events the ICW had – behind closed doors and Secrecy Oaths – dedicated a full contingent of observers to watch the larger libraries. Something about a red-furred demon? Every time Albus had gotten close to the truth, the trail had run dry. Not that he'd spent much time on such frivolousness.

He turned the final corner and found Madame Pince calmly bidding farewell to a strange man. The man was shorter than most, although taller than Flitwick, although to be fair, most dwarves were taller. Albus couldn't see many defining characteristics beyond a pile of books taller than the man was. He had long, powerful arms, and a rolling method of walking.

A running child distracted Albus for a moment. By the time he looked back, the mobile pile of books was backing around a corner, and Madame Pince was approaching. The feeling was fading, almost gone already.

"Your pardon, Madame?" Albus inclined his head politely. She was, after all, the curator of the knowledge he himself treasured.

She gave him a respectful nod in return. "Headmaster?"

"Who was just here?" he glanced at the empty trolley carts, used to carry books from one side of the library to the other. "I was unaware we were having visitors today."

A faint smile passed across Madame Pince's lips. It vanished before he could be certain it'd appeared. "Oh, a colleague from another library. He had advice on the organization method – keep your eye on the blit. That's the ticket."

"Ah." Despite the rituals, Albus still did not fully comprehend the catalogue system employed. No one could unless they dedicated their full intellect to the relatively minor art of Library Science. There were far too many things to do – and his own oaths prevented such a thing from occurring at any rate. "Very good. Please pass on my regards."

Madame Pince bowed once more, carrying on towards the next aisle.

It wasn't until after Albus had returned to his office that he realized something.

First: No visitor had passed through the Hogwarts Gates. Defensive magic's older than Hogwarts protected the borders, strong in their day but now unbreakable by even giants wielding goblin-forged weaponry.

Second: Why had Madame Pince been carrying a bunch of bananas?

APRILS FOOLS.

Actual chapter to be released at a later date.


	9. Chapter 9

Silence.

Indomitable silence.

Not even the Weasley twins, Fred and George, two delinquents known for their blatant disregard for social conventions spoke.

The cause of this silence was the raven-haired boy sitting on a wooden stool with a dirty hat atop his head.

The raven-haired boy who had just been sorted into the house of silver and green, when nearly everyone expected him to be sorted into gold and red.

His sharingan flared before reverting to a sheen of milky green. He didn't need the eyes precognition to tell him that a ripple of foreboding had passed through the teachers sitting behind him.

"This way Potter." The headmistress spoke with a frosty tone quite unlike the pseudo warmth he had experienced beforehand. Her magic seemed to churn in tangent with her turbulent emotions. She led him to the far-left table, where disdain and rage were predominant amongst the older teens, whilst the younger years tried to ignore him completely. The rare few gave him curious looks.

As he made his way to the table, it was as if a dam had been broken. Words which sole purpose was to condemn reverberated around him.

"Slytherin?"

"I saw him on the train, he was quiet and hardly spoke."

"His eyes, they're so freaky!"

"We didn't get Potter…"

The dissatisfied words washed over him, and he felt keen eyes burning into his general direction. If he didn't have a lifetime of experience getting acquainted with the harsh reality of fickle and ungrateful people, he would have let them get to him, instead, with all the poise he was once known for, he ignored. ' _The Uchiwa fan after all does not care which direction the wind blows, as long as the fire burns.'_

The hall once more descended into hush sombreness as the Headmaster took the stage, a genial smile aimed at the students, eyes twinkling, and arms wide. The old man seemed to be giving the students a distant hug.

Even from where he sat, he felt the vitality and warmth the old man past his prime seemed to radiate. His "magic" was a veritable ocean compared to the other instructors, the illusion of the Hokage standing in the headmasters' place reflected in his mind and he turned his head, he couldn't bear to look at the ghost of his past.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

The thrum of magic resonating throughout the great hall and stopped at the plates littered throughout the house tables. One moment there was no food, the next there was an overabundance.

There was a crack beside where he sat at the end of the table, away from both students and far away from the head table where the teachers sat.

The humanoid creature was approximately three feet, showed signs of balding, skinny, and had a dark grey complexion.

"Mr Potter sir, headmaster Dumbledore requesting Dimpy to aid you in eating." Spoke the elf, bulbous eyes shining underneath the candlelight.

Mutterings broke out amongst the rest of the house, some even had the temerity to point at his eyes, brokering off into laughter.

"Thank you Dimpy, I can manage, if you'd be so kind as to load some steamed vegetables, roast potatoes and chicken please. I can do the rest."

With a click of a finger, the appropriate items of sustenance were neatly deposited onto his plate. With another crack, the elf departed leaving him alone to dig into his food. As he ate, he felt a chill from nearby. He faced the direction to his right and saw a horribly disfigured ghost sitting a seat away. He had blank dead eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood.

"Welcome, Harry Potter," the Bloody Baron said softly. "I feel that Slytherin house will benefit by having someone like you in it."

Harry's smile was bittersweet. "Thank you."

Magic truly was intrinsically different to chakra. The departed spirit clinging to the mortal plane was evident of this. If they had been the same, maybe Sasuke would have had family members to keep him company as ghosts after he'd brutally slaughtered them.

Loneliness truly was a curse.

His musings were interrupted as the crumbs from his empty plate dissipated. Dessert had also come and gone, he wasn't a fan of the desserts served. The Baron along with the other apparitions floated away as the headmaster once again stood.

He kept his eyes firmly on the glistening plate in front of him. The headmaster spoke of a forbidden forest that prohibited students from access. Another forest tugged at his memories, one of _death._ A potential training ground for him to keep his skills sharp. Something about quidditch. An unfamiliar term. Knowledge was power, this common adage rang true everywhere. He'd have to find the library to acquaint himself with everything. And something about a corridor that was out of bounds to everyone who did not wish to die a painful death. Maybe he should seek it out. It wouldn't be the first time he thought about his death. Only the thought of returning to Sasuke dislodged that notion from his noggin.

He resisted the urge from snapping the wrist on his shoulder. He'd spent years channelling chakra through his body to reach the level of attainment he had just before he suffered from his chronic illness. He could now snap the hand without augmenting himself. Turning to look at the person holding him, it turned out to be a teacher. Greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened in an instant, once the hooked nose teacher gazed into his eyes, a sharp hot pain shot across Harry's eyes. The pain subsided a second later, but not without the hook-nosed teacher taking a shaky step backwards, handgrip lessening its tension on the boy's shoulder.

"Mr Potter… If you'd follow me. The rest of Slytherin house are already making their way to the dormitory."

It was only with his vaunted skills in the esoteric art of occlumency that prevented the profound rage he had buried deep within himself from being unleashed. He hoped this was the first and last time he gazed upon the unseeing eyes of the boy before him. The same sheen of green as _hers._

The boy stood and followed the rest of his slytherins. He made to follow, cloak billowing behind him, whilst a look of intense concentration was plastered inside his inner mind.

' _What is **Tsukuyomi?** ' _

His occlumency prevented anything but a cold, apathetic visage from showing on his face.

 *****Break*****

"Welcome to the greatest of Hogwarts's four houses."

Harry's attention fixed on the man who he just realised was the head of his house, who'd introduced himself as Professor Snape. The snake motifs littered around the room drew an uneasy feeling in him. Reminding him so intimately of Orochimaru.

"We have new members sorted into the prestigious house of Salazar Slytherin. We even have the _great_ Harry Potter." There was a noticeable sneer as he spat his name, much to the pleasure of the older teens. It clearly showed that the man did not like him.

"There are only a few rules of what are expected of you. Follow them and I will not be displeased, break them and risk attracting my ire." He turned to glare at them all. "The rest of the houses are prejudiced against us. They will target you, goad you into action. I advise the opposite. Do not act where you will be seen. A true Slytherin strikes under the cover of shadows. Any disagreements and rivalries between one another are to be dealt with inside this dormitory. Any fractures shown outside these walls will incite weakness. And weakness will displease me."

The words were layered with double meaning and subterfuges. They were designed to infringe upon his status of being a Slytherin. He didn't belong here, and his head of house was making everyone know it. Outside of the common room, they weren't to isolate him, but within the safety of the dormitory they were free to do whatever they liked with him.

There were more subtly hidden mocking remarks aimed at him. Snape continued his spiel on the interpretation Slytherins had on the school rules, the points system, the house and quidditch cup, which teachers to avoid and how to contact him if they were in need of any assistance. The first years were assigned mentors that they had to go to first, before they went to him.

His speech finished, Snape gave one last look around the amalgamation of students, turned around, and walked out of the dormitory. The wall solidifying again after his exit.

He sensed the build-up of magic before it was expelled from the wand. Turning on his side, he watched it collide into the wall without leaving a mark.

"You don't belong here _Potter!_ " Spoke a fifth-year student, his friends, a group of four roaring their approval.

Ah. So, that's how it was going to be. Violence begets violence. But this was Slytherin house. The strong preyed on the weak. And if he wanted to be left to his own devices, he'd have to deal with this _here and now._

"Snape isn't here to protect you Potter. Watch your back. You're stuck in here with us!"

"No. You're stuck in here with _me._ " His voice which they hadn't heard before was soft. But that didn't stop the hairs on their arms from rising.

And behind murky green eyes, the _Sharingan_ activated. Three tomoe gently spinning.

His pacifism had been the undoing of his family and had completely alienated him from his beloved brother. This time, he'd be proactive.

"Before we get started, is there any of you that would like to stop?"

The tightness of their grips on their wands answered his question.

 *****Break*****

"Come in, Sirius," said Dumbledore from inside the office before Sirius even had the opportunity to knock. He would never get used to the interruption. Sighing to himself, he opened the door to the Headmaster's office and strode in.

In the centre of the room was Dumbledore, sat behind his desk, for the first time since the fateful events of Halloween all those years ago, the man's eyes were not twinkling instead they seemed to look quite solemn. Gesturing to the seat on the right, Sirius sat.

"It begins Albus."

Dumbledore removed the Elder wand from the folds of his robes, pressing the tip to his forehead, he removed multiple strands of blue wisp. He carelessly deposited it into the basin placed in front of him.

"It's been eleven years Sirius. Eleven long years."

"Harry is safe, he's in Hogwarts. And he's healthy. I didn't expect Petunia to raise him well, but she's done a fine job."

"No Sirius, he's not safe. The agents of darkness will stir at his sorting. The wizarding world will vilify him. And Quirrell will keep a very close eye on him."

"Headmaster, I don't understand, why don't you just deal with Quirrell yourself? Spare Harry the grief until he's ready?! He's just a child..."

Before Sirius Black's eyes, it seemed as if Dumbledore had aged a hundred years. The solemnness in his eyes reaching its crescendo.

"We must kill the boy, and let the man be born."

 **AN:**

 **Review, favourite, follow and all that good stuff.**

 **Any questions? Review them. Or PM me.**

 **Till next time.**


	10. Chapter 10

_[FLASHBACK]_  
 _  
Black hair tied behind a forehead protector gleamed under the setting sun. The insignia engraved upon the metal denoted his allegiance. Onyx eyes surveyed the area from his vantage point._

 _He sighed._

 _It was all for naught._

 _For all of his considerable skill, the years of dedicated training, the paramountcy of his Sharingan it all meant nothing against the tireless might of Iwa's war machine._

 _His hand clenched, nails digging into his palm._

 _It was_

 _infuriating._

 _As Konoha's Uchiha clan head_ _he was one of the swords and shields tasked with assuring the village's dominance._

 _So, when war was announced, he jumped at the chance. Anything to leave the confinement of Konoha's walls. The thought of staying when his people were so blatantly segregated and put down irked him. Madara's words all those years ago had finally brought fruit._

 _Fugaku closed his eyes, it was bad enough that every time he looked into the mirror, he saw the same onyx eyes matched with his clansmen. Eyes that would never see the light of day again._

 _He commanded the forward legion, the tip of the spear that was to break their enemy's lines. The most competent Uchiha operators placed under his command to lead the offensive that would turn the tide of the war in their favour._

 _Danzō had also been adamant, to include ROOT in the affairs of the Uchiha: his men were the best. The best trained, the most well equipped. They followed orders without hesitation. They did not know fear. They did not know pain. They did not know death._

 _At least not until their worthless lives are snuffed out, he thought with vitriol, striding through the camp._

 _Iwa's strategy was clear: throw enough semi-competent bodies at a problem, and the problem would probably go away. His offensive – if it could even be called such – had been halted less than two days into Grass Country._

 _His strategies meant little when there were two fresh bodies leaping to take the place of the one that had just been cut down. It was nothing but a numbers game. Iwa had more, Konoha had less. There was no nuance, and that vexed him to end._

 _For all his training and his jutsu, for all his genius, he could not outsmart this problem. He had been outsmarted on the battlefield before, and it hurt, but it could be borne. He was not the greatest shinobi in the land. He could hold his own against the common ninja employed by Iwa, but to be beaten back by sheer bullheadedness was unconscionable._

 _He had nearly taken the field himself in a fit of pique, wishing nothing more than to slaughter the zealots Iwa threw against him to a man. Only his rationality had held him back; given enough numbers and even he could be overrun. It had happened to shinobi greater than he, and while Iwa's death squads were no Kinkaku Force, it was a risk he couldn't afford to take._

 _Izanagi wasn't ready yet._

 _Making matters worse was the news from the eastern front. One of Iwa's jinchuuriki had abandoned the fight and was making his way towards Grass Country. Jiraiya had beaten back Kumo's latest push personally – aided as it was by Iwa's monsters – but had sustained heavy losses and was falling back into Fire Country for reinforcements._

 _Which boded ill for him. Iwa's legion had been dealing him steady losses over the two months since he'd launched the offensive through Grass Country; contending with a jinchuuriki would push the already unfavourable situation over the edge of being untenable._

 _He crested the ridge that overlooked the war zone that had been carved out of the forest. Downed trees had been turned to sawdust in the routine clashes, discarded branches and debris from doton jutsu littering the currently deserted battleground. Subtlety had been thrown to the wind once Iwa's legion had beaten back his first strike and, amid mounting casualties, he had used katon ninjutsu liberally to cut a swath through the foliage. The great flames generated by his kinsmen had pushed forward at his command, but even their greatest element too had been halted after a time._

 _It had likely saved the battalion from utter obliteration in those first days, however, as Iwa's retaliatory strikes had come fast and brutally. An uneasy stalemate had persisted for the better part of the last two months, each of his subtle incursions rebuffed by overwhelming manpower, and each of Iwa's fended off with mounting desperation._

 _He sneered, looking down upon the ruination, knowing, as he had for nearly two months, that this battle was lost. The early stirrings of distress gnawed at his mind. He cared little for his home village outside a_ _very select few, but its destruction was not something he had adequately planned for. For all its irritations, Konoha had resources that he hadn't had the time to amass for himself. Resources that he needed for the perseveration of the clan._

 _All plans are amended, he consoled himself, carefully schooling his expression as he felt one of Danzō's men approach._

 _He turned, and the young-looking man snapped a quick salute. "Fugaku-sama," he intoned without inflection, much like the rest of his soldiers. "Konoha shinobi have entered camp. They requested your presence."_

 _Fugaku nodded once, dismissing the messenger with a wave of his hand, his hackles rising. He had requested reinforcements from Konoha a week ago – he had but five full platoons left, one hundred men – and his pride still hurt at the request's necessity. It would hurt more if this battle was lost entirely, however, and he mastered himself as he strode purposefully back into the encampment._

 _Onyx eyes took in the tents without truly seeing them as he made his way back to his command centre. He threw the flap back without ceremony, only to be greeted by the sight of Kagami's son, and his heir._

 _His eyes narrowed as he took in Uchiha Shisui's appearance, mind flitting briefly to his disgraced – and now deceased – sensei. Brief fury flashed through him; Hatake Sakumo had gotten all of them into this mess._

 _"Yes?" he hissed, eyes settling on his son's young frame. The boy was barely six, and the dark green vest that marked him a chuunin was too pristine to have seen much combat._

 _"Fugaku-sama," the teen demurred, stepping forward. "You requested reinforcements. We are here to turn back Iwa's tide and help you push forward toward Earth Country."_

 _The clan head blinked, his eyebrows inching toward his hairline. He could feel no other chakra presences nearby that weren't the men already under his command. Only these two were new. "Surely you must be joking…"_

 _A brief bit of amusement passed through Shisui's eyes before it was quelled, replaced instead by a calm that seemed almost melancholy. "I'm afraid not," he said, and his son placed a soft hand upon his arm, as if in support._

 _Onyx eyes glanced back and forth between the two, finally settling on the last son of Kagami Uchiha. He was one of a few who knew what the boy contained._

 _Today is just full of surprises, he mused. Konoha's situation was dire indeed if Sarutobi was deploying a Mangekyō user. He had steadfastly refused all suggestions of doing so before, despite the urging of the elders. Danzō in particular._

 _"I see," the clan head said, mind already awhirl at how to best utilize the new weapon at his disposal. The Mangekyō's power could open up many avenues to breaking Iwa's line. "What preparations do you require?"_

 _"The preparations are complete," Shisui said. He gestured to the flap of the command tent, and Fugaku led them outside. "Can you take us to the front?"_

 _The clan head said nothing, electing to stride back in the direction from which he had come, the young pair easily keeping pace with him. The trio crested the ridge he had stood upon minutes before, looking down at the neutral zone._

 _"Iwa's forces are just beyond the tree line," he told the two. "They respond in force to anyone they detect, mobilizing with overwhelming numbers no matter the size of the threat."_

 _Itachi nodded absently. "That's good. Our intelligence indicates that they have a force between three and five hundred holding this line, with another garrison ten miles north, providing support. We have to force the garrison into a retreat before Han arrives."_

 _Fugaku nodded at the mention of the Gobi jinchuuriki's approach, the boy's intelligence matching his own. "My men are ready to move at my command. They will flood the forest once Iwa's front line is broken. With your frontal assault occupying the garrison, we can flank from the east and rout them."_

 _"Your men will… not be necessary," Shisui said. "Instruct them to move once the initial fighting has been pushed past the tree line, but there's no need to expose ourselves to more casualties now. They'll be necessary to maintain the push deeper into Grass once Shisui and I leave."_

 _Fugaku stared at the boy, askance. There wasn't much that surprised him anymore, but it seemed his son had learned more than jutsu from the academy._

 _Is the Mangekyō's power so great? he wondered. He had never fought a Mangekyō user personally but knew well that they could turn the fortunes of a battle with their sheer presence. They were aberrations, utterly outside the rules of normal shinobi. The clan scrolls had said as much._

 _Shisui held out a scroll that was sealed with Sarutobi's personal seal. The clan head took it but didn't open it. Its presence alone meant that the Hokage had signed off on this bewildering operation – Fugaku wouldn't place his son in such a situation without the Sandaime's express order._

 _"As you say," Fugaku said quietly. If his son was hurt on the warfront, Mikoto would make him feel the brunt of her anger._

 _Shisui sighed, eyes fluttering shut. Itachi stepped in front of him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly._

 _"You know I'll be there." He told the curly haired teen._

 _Shisui opened his eyes and favoured the shorter boy in front of him with a slight smile. "I know, Itachi. Thank you." Itachi said nothing but nodded._

 _Fugaku looked on with dispassion, quelling his momentary impatience at having to wait to see the Mangekyō's power. He was in no rush however. Whilst he may have had no need for such affection, it may well be the last time the two would see each other again. The odds were great even for a Mangekyō user._

 _Shisui gave Itachi a soft smile, it seemed to be frozen for a long moment before it disappeared back to signature Uchiha aloofness, Shisui flicked Itachi with his index and middle finger before turning away._

 _"I'll be right behind you," Itachi told his back. And Fugaku felt his eyes narrow. Shisui nodded once and leapt off the ridge into the neutral zone without a word._

 _What? Fugaku thought, utterly baffled._

 _"Once Shisui advances, I'll head down to pick off anyone he left behind. The Hokage says we can't afford to take prisoners," Itachi said, distaste colouring his voice. "Send your men in once I make it to the trees."_

 _"Wait," Fugaku said, confusion overwhelming him. "Shisui is engaging them_ _on his own?" he asked, askance, even as red clothed bodies rushed onto the battlefield._

 _"He'll be fine," Itachi said, calm despite the ludicrousness that was unfolding._

 _Against two garrisons? The clan head knew his mouth was agape but couldn't muster the fortitude to close it. He circulated his chakra, ready to leap to the boy's defence before he was overrun – he held no affection for Shisui, but the boy was undeniably talented. His death would be yet another reprehensible waste in this war, never mind Kagami's reaction when he found out his only son died under his watch._

 _He turned to the battlefield, only to still as Itachi laid a hand on his left arm. "You'll only get in his way," he told him, onyx eyes similar to his own staring at him without a hint of jest._

 _Kagami narrowed his own at him, surveying him for a moment before he ripped his arm out of his grip. "If you wish so badly to see your friend slaughtered, I won't stop you," he hissed. "But I'll let you explain to the boy's father just how his son died."_

 _Musical laughter that somehow managed to convey nothing but condescending derision met his proclamation. He felt his hackles rise and stifled the urge to strike the impudent boy as he said, "You'll see. You'll all see."_

 _He turned his eyes to the battlefield to see no less than three full platoons rushing to meet Shisui. The black-haired teen strode toward them purposefully and withdrew a tanto from its sheath on his back. The sword began to pulsate and before their very eyes took on a red hue, but Fugaku knew it wouldn't be nearly enough._

 _"Blink and you'll miss it," his son quipped snidely from beside him, and the clan head of the Uchiha heeded him warily as Shisui disappeared without fanfare._

 _What speed…_

 _Before he had the time to think anything else, his eyes managed to catch a brief glimpse of red flames dancing along the serrated edges of a tanto before an Iwa nin crumpled soundlessly to the ground. He was followed by another. And another. And another, the only herald of their death a flash of light bouncing off the tanto's metal that disappeared just as suddenly as it came._

 _A full platoon was dead by the time Fugaku had blinked twice. A shout had gone up from one of the remaining Iwa shinobi for backup, but another platoon had been cut down by the time more men had burst from the tree line._

 _There were no screams as the third platoon met their deaths, Shisui apparently moving too fast even for panicked cries to manifest._

 _"How on earth…" the clan head breathed, even as the black-haired teen paused to survey the dead before plucking two of his kunai from his pouch, bolstering them with Fūton_ _chakra and then proceeded to hurl them at the oncoming enemies, before disappearing once more._

 _"Shunshin no Jutsu, with Mangekyō illusionary," Itachi said as a dozen more men fell like puppets with their strings cut. Shouts of alarm were beginning to sound, the Iwa shinobi unsure of what exactly was befalling them. They began to stand back to back or in groups of four, but they fell just as quickly as they moved, utterly powerless against the young Uchiha's incomprehensible speed. "It's his masterpiece."_

 _"No mere Shunshin could do what he's doing."_

 _From the corner of his eyes, he saw his son's lips quirk up. "His can."_

 _The Iwa shinobi had taken less than a minute to lose over a hundred men and had stopped advancing toward the blur that was Uchiha Shisui, instead turning tail and fleeing into the cover of the trees. Fugaku couldn't tell how many made it into the forest, his mind solely occupied with processing just what was happening before his very eyes._

 _This was unprecedented. He knew power. He had seen it. He had fought it. He possessed it. There were dozens of jutsu that could level battlefields and claim dozens of lives at a time._

 _But this?_

 _Iwa's force was comprised mostly of elite chuunin, with tokubetsu jonin interspersed throughout to command platoons. They were seasoned, battle hardened, and had rebuffed Konoha's advances with aplomb for two months._

 _And they didn't have time to react to what was befalling them. The last of the visible shinobi had dispersed into a discombobulated retreat at the sight of their slaughtered comrades. Shisui followed them into the trees without hesitation, and the sounds of panic echoed eerily from the forest across the now empty battlefield._

 _"We've got a minute before the rest of the garrison is dead. Maybe two," Itachi declared, startling Fugaku from his stupor. The boy hopped down from the ridge and began walking deliberately across the corpse strewn field. The Uchiha head followed him a moment later, eyes wide and a disturbing tingling raising the hairs on the back of his neck._

 _He felt his heartbeat pick up as he matched Itachi's stride for stride, passing the first bodies. The boy paid them no heed, but Fugaku's sharp eyes flittered from corpse to corpse, taking in the precise slashes and incisions that marked each. Some had their jugulars sliced neatly open, blood pooling around their heads as they rested in death. Others had a single stab at the base of their neck, their cervical vertebrae severed. The stench of death assaulted his nostrils, released bowels filling the air with the scent of sewage._

 _Itachi carelessly flipped the body of an Iwa-nin over. The man's eyes were wide, panicked, and frozen in death, and Fugaku withheld a shudder._

 _Even amongst the Uchiha, his son was a prodigy that eclipsed those double, even treble his age. But what he'd seen here…_

 _He used his foot to turn yet another corpse over and was greeted by the sight of a snarl forever etched on a woman's face. She hadn't had time to process her life ending before it was snuffed out. He couldn't stop the shudder the wracked his body at the sight._

 _Fugaku felt beads of sweat begin to pool at the base of his neck and he realized, as if from a great distance, that he was terrified. The emotion was so foreign that he stopped in his tracks, staring down at one of the leftover bodies. At this distance, he could see that it had three deep cuts which was peculiar because Shisui didn't need to cut more than once._

 _"After image…"_

 _"Shisui's mark," he heard Itachi call; he had advanced ten meters ahead of him, frozen as he was. "You coming?" he asked rhetorically, turning and walking toward the now silent forest. "He didn't leave any of them alive."_

 _The clan head mastered himself with a thought, appalled at his own weakness, but powerless to stop the rapid beating of his heart._

 _What a terrifying nin/genjutsu…_

 _The duo reached the trees a few moments later, and were greeted, unsurprisingly, by even more corpses. The Iwa encampment, which Fugaku had barely glimpsed on the first day of combat, was a ghost town. Weapons were strewn across the ground, discarded in death before they had had the time to be used. Dozens of corpses were face down on the forest floor, clearly cut down as they tried to run._

 _Itachi made his way over to a large tent that was clearly the command centre and slipped in. Fugaku followed, and was greeted by the sight of a burly, flat nosed man dressed in Iwa fatigues bound and shaking. The very much alive man – a jonin – whimpered at the sight of the two Konoha shinobi, and the Uchiha clan leader quickly schooled his features into the appropriate visage of aloofness._

 _He would show no weakness here, despite the sweat beading on his neck. "Kitsuchi," he hissed at the man who commanded Iwa's forward legions. "We seem to have you at a disadvantage, old friend."_

 _Beady black eyes stared right through him without seeing him, and the goateed man just shook his head._

 _"It's done," Shisui's voice spoke from beside Itachi, and Fugaku nearly jumped, Sharingan eyes flying to the black-haired teen. He hadn't felt a thing; no surge of chakra indicative of the body flicker. Nothing at all. One moment he wasn't there, the next he was. Without warning._

 _Two garrisons…slaughtered by one man. In minutes. The Uchiha clan head tore his eyes away from the young jonin with effort, refocusing on the bound commander in front of them._

 _"You appear to have missed one," he quipped, managing to keep his voice level through sheer force of will._

 _Shisui nodded to Itachi a lifetime of conversation being spoken through each other's eyes. The black-haired teen stepped forward and behind the terrified man, a single motion freeing him. Shisui stepped in front of the Iwa-nin once more, staring down at him. The jonin managed to muster up what looked like righteous fury in his eyes for the man who had singlehandedly massacred his entire force. It was tempered by the utter horror just beneath the surface that was visible to everyone in the room._

 _"You're free to go," Shisui told the jonin who had gingerly climbed to his feet._

 _"You killed them," Kitsuchi managed to croak._

 _"I did. You should report back to your father."_

 _"You killed all of them," the Iwa jonin repeated, taking a step back._

 _Fugaku felt the slightest of smirks break through the haze of the last few minutes. "I believe you broke him, Shisui-kun."_

 _The clan head's words seemed to break the Iwa commander from his shock, black eyes finding Fugaku before widening and moving back to Shisui. He took another step back, clearly processing his situation, before disappearing in a puff of smoke._

 _Shisui sighed, and Itachi rested his hand once more on his shoulder, conveying words in whispers. The black-haired teen nodded after a second of contemplation and turned to face Fugaku. The Uchiha, through every ounce of willpower he possessed, held his ground without a flinch._

 _"Our work here is done, Fugaku-sama. Your men will be able to move into Grass unimpeded. Iwa has men stationed twenty miles from the northern border, and the Hokage believes you'll be able to deal with them," the teen said robotically._

 _Fugaku nodded absently, surveying the boy. His sharingan could notice no signs of fatigue about him, and his chakra levels were hardly lower than when he had appeared in his camp – less than ten minutes previous. The only sign of strain was the slightest tightening around the boy's eyes. Eyes which reflected a kaleidoscope in their depths rather than tomoe._

 _"Where will you go?" he asked the duo._

 _"The eastern front," Shisui answered. "Jiraiya-sama is having some trouble with Kiri and Kumo and we're to even the playing field a bit for him."_

 _Fugaku nodded absently, eyes drifting to his son. Who seemed to emit sombreness, hand still gripping onto Shisui's shoulder, the duo oddly subdued given the great victory they had created. He, himself, wasn't one for celebration, but most of his comrades were._

 _"Give Jiraiya my regards," he told them._

 _Leave, he commanded silently._

 _The duo was gone before he had time to blink, no sound or smoke to signal their departure._

 _No sound. No chakra surge. No warning._

 _When his lieutenant found him in the tent some minutes later, he was still lost in thought._

 _Dwelling on the rotating curves surrounded behind a sea of red._

 _[FLASHBACK END.]_

Harry awoke with a start, sweat clinging to his body like a second skin. The whites in his eyes became more prominent as the sheets in which he'd slept in had seemingly found themselves coiled around him.

He hadn't dreamt of his past in a long time, especially not of Shisui.

The amount of death he'd seen all those years ago on that battlefield had cemented his pacifism for life. Nothing changed a man faster than killing.

He had learnt that lesson from his best friend.

Learnt and was taught it.

How much blood was on his hands?

How much blood was _going to be_ on his hands?

He placed his head back on his pillow and glanced skywards. He'd shown his opening salvo to the wizarding world.

He was not Harry Potter – their boy saviour and someone to subjugate.

He was Uchiha Itachi – proactive, in control and took no shit from anyone.

The Slytherin's he'd sent to the hospital wing would attest to this.

The darkness of his room brought a silent calm that nothing except his own breathing could penetrate. Or the thrum of his eyes radiating with red and black tomoe.

 *****Break*****

"Hmmm," calloused hands, lean and strong, cupped a meditative chin. A beard, neatly trimmed, rasped against his skin, making a scratching noise to the keen listener.

"Fascinating."

Nicholas Flamel studied reams of parchment, each gliding before his eyes. To the untrained eye, it would have appeared as a blur of black and near-yellow; sharp-eyed individuals could spot irregularities where diagrams interrupted the text flow. A gifted Seeker might even see points where new segments began, the lighter columns vanishing as longer streams of text filled the area above his desk. But only a man whom understood the subtle nuances of the Arcane would truly see, read, and above all, _understand_ the pages moving like a lightning that rustled.

"Oh Wulfric. What have you done."

"What's fascinating?"

Turning, Nicholas ignored how the line of text stopped as soon as his attention wavered. A single delay could mean hours of searching for the original stopping point, time that he held in abundance, but did not wish to spend.

"A three headed dog, a devil snare plant, enchanted keys, chess set, troll, and potion logic test is all Wulfric's using to guard the stone."

Some might have called him foolish for giving the key to his immortality away, none more so than his own wife. But the philosophers stone left traces of magic, so much so that it couldn't be falsified.

If the Dark Lord was to be caught, he'd have to be fooled by the real deal.

He didn't expect Wulfric to gift wrap his stone to him so blatantly, and protect with weak defences a first year could bypass given the necessary tools.

"Perenelle dear, pack your bags. We're going to _Hogwarts._ "

 **AN:  
**  
 **Review, favourite, follow and all that good stuff.**

 **Any questions? Review them, or PM me.**

 **Till next time.**


End file.
